Plight of a Princess
by Gaslight
Summary: An attempt to get this Mary Sue Monkey off my back. Misspellings, parody, impossible names, and inane canon characters abound!
1. A Sue Hissy Fit

Author's Disclaimer: What's that? I *don't * own Tolkien's creation? Pshaw, surely you jest! In all seriousness [and this is the last time it will make an appearance, so toodles!], I enjoy Mary Sues, if only for their awful train-wreck badness. It's the masochistic MSTie in me. I'm an intelligent person...really. I CAN spell and I know my grammar. So any errors were meant to be that way! ;) I proofread endlessly! I don't own any of Tolkien's sublime characters. Nor do I own any part of Middle- Earth...yet. However, I am in the middle of a bidding war on Ebay for Barad-dûr. I could do wonders with the place. Just call me Martha Sue.  
  
This will be mercifully short, a consideration that I'm sure you will find eminently praiseworthy. Or I'll make it long. Sometimes when my fingers get going, they turn Orlac-ian. Perhaps it will turn into a *cue collective gasp* MULTI-CHAPTER OPUS with NO END IN SIGHT!  
  
Gather 'round, kiddies, and you shall hear / The most wondrous and enchanting tale of / Mary Sue Boromir.  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
It was with great vexation that Mergiliandowë greeted the news of her betrothal. Her? A Princess of Mirkwood and sister to one of the most drop- dead sexy elfs to ever handle a bow to marry a...a...well, a member of a lesser race of elfs which wasn't mentioned in the movie?!?!!!? Elfs that weren't fit to lick her brother's boots! A brother which she loved in a purely sisterly fashion of course, but even she wasn't averse to a man with a nice head of hair and a way with a shaft...er, weapon.  
  
"Well, I just won't do it!" she spat like a vixen at her father.  
  
"Behave like a she-elf!" came the rumble from the royal throne, King Thrandool an imposing presence on a gorgeous chair of gold and many-colored gems, the sunlight hitting them not nearly as beautiful as the sparks which now flew from the maiden princess's eyes, a blue as blue as a blue sea. "You're just like your cousin Arwen. Always headstrong, always trying to have your own way. It has got to stop!"  
  
"Father, let me talk to her..." whispered Legolas, standing beside the throne looking sadly at his sister's display of childish temper.  
  
"You're always taking his side!" Mergiliandowë accused, close to tears. "Legolas! How could you do this to your own sister? Don't you love me? You don't want me marrying some nobody from a tribe that any decent elf wouldn't let through the front door! Well, do you?"  
  
He sighed. "Mendwë," he began patiently, using the affectionate nickname he had given to her when she was a baby, 16 years ago. It meant "ravishing royal beauty" in Elfish. "You are a princess and Father needs to ally himself with these elfs for reasons which the author has not the knowledge to divulge at this moment. We must be loyal, as she must be to her hordes of obsequious reviewers."  
  
"This 'loyalty' of which you speak is nothing more than blind obedience and *i* for one will have no part of it!" Mergiliandowë cried before turning and running out of the throne room, rushing past bewildered guards and startled handmaidens.  
  
Legolas followed his sister and kept pace with her frantic dash without so much as breaking a sweat, the exercise only bringing an appealing flush to his porcelin complexion.  
  
He found her collapsed under a cherry tree, the fading blossoms falling in tune to her soft sobs, the sadness of which tore his heart in a million directions. He couldn't bear to see her so miserable, after all the sweetness and sunshine that she had brought to the lives of everyone in Mirkwood! Through her childhood, her skipping and girlish giggles were guaranteed to put an indulgent smile on the face of all who saw her.sdfhsod;foaaas. [Author interjection: Sorry, had to wipe the vomit off my keyboard...]  
  
He rushed over to her and knelt beside her, taking one of her limp hands and kissing it affectionately...with purely fraternal feelings, naturally. With his other hand he gently wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks.  
  
"Hush, Mendwë," he whispered soothingly, "don't be sad! Please, if you have any love for me!"  
  
Mergiliandowë let out a ragged, dramatic sigh as she choked back another threatening flood of tears. "Why were you so mean to me in there, Legolas?" she asked, wishing she had a suitably romantic-sounding, yet sisterly, nickname for him in this tender and picturesque moment.  
  
"I'm sorry and your reaction has shown me that I was completely wrong," he said, holding her tightly to his finely-muscled chest, deliciously strong through the soft elfish velvet. "You will not marry anyone you don't wish to! Seeing you like this is breaking my heart, and I have had my heart broken more times that you can imagine and by fair maidens that pale in comparison to you."  
  
Mergiliandowë sniffed and held onto Legolas with all her might, overjoyed that he would always be her champion. That he would never make her do anything she didn't want to do. It was kewl to have a bro like Leggy.  
  
As they sat under the heart-breakingly beautiful shower of cherry blossoms, Legolas kissed her cheek and said, "There has been a heavy weight on my heart since time immemorable. A secret which I swore never to utter, until now.."  
  
Her eyes a blue as blue as a summer's day, Mergiliandowë looked into her brother's luminous dark orbs and found herself unable to speak...  
  
  
  
***** Just what is the achingly beautiful Orlan-- er, Legolas going to divulge? Stay tuned!  
  
What do you all think? I'm writing this for sh*ts and giggles [let's keep it G!], so reviews will be fun but completely unheeded if they are of the negative ilk. I just had to get this Mary Sue monkey off my back. I've tried to regress as far as I can into Mary Suepidity without irreparably harming my muse. 


	2. The Secret Revealed!

Author's Disclaimer: Same as before, yada-yada. Ebay Update: Going swimmingly!  
  
When we last saw Mergiliandowë and her incredibly scrumdiddly-umptious brother, the Greenleaf known as Legolas/Leggy/Orli, it was a classic dum- dum-dum moment. So let's just hop back into the action, shall we?  
  
CHAPTER TWO  
  
Mergiliandowë's mouth was parted in stunningly beautiful confusion and wonder at her brother's words. "What is it? Tell me!" Before Legolas could speak, she put a hand over his mouth and said, "Don't tell me!" Her voice assuming the pitch of an oncoming drama fit, she cried, "You're going to tell me something which will change my life forever!"  
  
"Yourf umphailng secnd sighpht ith uh curth!" Legolas declared through her fingers.  
  
"A curse! Yes, aye, a curse!" Mergiliandowë wailed. "I see things before they happen, but, uh, that betrothal blindsided me. What was this secret you wanted to tell me?"  
  
Legolas looked at her strangely, removed her hand, shook his head in puzzlement and forged on ahead. "It is about your birth, your past. You were brought to Mirkwood as a babe under the cover of darkest night in the arms of a woman who claimed she was under the command of a man in Gondor to deliver you to safety. She was dazed with exhaustion and pain. She said she had kept her path to the rivers and woods since her journey began, 5 days before, her mind on nothing but delivering you to safety."  
  
"But why?" Mergiliandowë asked, her eyes filled with innocent wonder. "Am I some chosen one in a mystical prophecy that would necessitate my seclusion in a distant land, safe from harm and danger?" [Author: Come on, folks, was there *ever* any doubt?]  
  
"I despise myself that I must be the one to tell you of this," Legolas began, "but it was foretold several hundred years ago that the Stewards of Gondor would fall before the might of a luminous figure in silver and white, born on the night of a meteor shower, a figure who was the embodiment of justice and peace and would enrich Middle Earth forever more. The Stewards knew of this prophecy and through the years tried to take all babies born on such a night. You were sent to safety and as far as I know, you are the only one who survived."  
  
The confusion rolled over Mergiliandowë's face like a dense fog. Then it brightened. Nothing could cloud it for long when the power of her personality kicked in.  
  
"Then *I* am the rightful Queen of Gondor!" she declared, rising to her feet and tilting her chin upwards in a defiant, bratty, yet completely charming, manner. "But how will I regain what is rightfully mine?"  
  
Legolas's brow furrowed. "It is a mighty land and will not fall easily. Denethor, the Steward, will not hand over his power to you without a fight."  
  
"That's where you come in," Mergiliandowë explained patiently. "You have lots of friends who will help me on my quest. That Strider fellow, the one you are so friendly with--" Mergiliandowë couldn't prevent a note of jealousy from creeping into her voice. "I'm sure he'd love to help me fulfill my destiny of ruling Gondor and bringing peace to Middle Earth." She paused. "And could you tell me why those camping trips you two take are so much fun that you always leave me alone when he shows up?"  
  
"Uhhhh.."  
  
Mergiliandowë sighed. "He's just filled with envy that I can use a sword better than he can." She pouted prettily. "Some people hate being around others who are better, faster, stronger, smarter, prettier, and- oh, what a curse! Doubly so! But he is big, strong and stupid, so he should do quite nicely."  
  
"About Gondor?" Legolas asked, steering the conversation back to safer ground. "You will just go there and demand what is yours?"  
  
"What else can I do?" Mergiliandowë replied. "That is where my fate and destiny lie. Middle Earth will wither and die unless I follow the path among the stars that has been laid before me." The warm rays of the sun above created a dazzling halo of light around her curly blond locks and Legolas was temporarily blinded by her brilliance until he had a brainstorm to turn his head away.  
  
"Wait a minute!" Mergiliandowë cried, launching herself at her brother-up- until-a-moment-ago. "Gondor can wait! You're not my brother after all! Let us the nasty do!"  
  
The cherry blossoms rained down in tune with Legolas' shattering screams.  
  
A/N: I'm somehow unsatisfied with this chapter, but I don't see how I can change it in a significant way. I just couldn't go on with the cavity- inducing sweetness anymore. I admit it, Mary Sue broke me! *sobs* Oh, the pain! (RIP, Dr. Smith) But if this gave y'all a giggle, I did my job! :-) 


	3. Maps and Butts

Disclaimer: I, Gaslight, hereby swear I am not using the work of Tolkien for grubby financial gain. However, I *am* using that entity known far and wide as "The Sue" for cheap laughs and a way to pass the time at work.  
  
If I win Barad-dûr, I'll turn it into a timeshare. All are welcome, as long as you don't mind an atmosphere of poisonous ash and smoke akin to Gary, Ind.  
  
My language is veering from idiotic to overly flowery to mildly intelligent. I'm just writing this off the cuff. Hey, just like a Sue! It's been an interesting experience, lemme tell ya! I haven't thought it out to the end at all-- Hey, wait a minute!!!!!  
  
And what about a very obvious plothole? Should I fill it? (*cough* Her ears! *cough*) WWSD?  
  
When we last left our heroine, she was enthusiastically embarking on a snogfest with the lithe and leggy Prince of Mirkwood. With her new-found knowledge and strength that she was the ultimate gift to Middle Earth, did she overpower him and show him the way to heaven and back? Or did the author step in and save his enticingly grab-able Elvish butt? [I'm pulling for ya, Leggy!]  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
  
"Damn his chocolately brown eyes!" Mergiliandowë cursed as she strode back into the palace, her heel broken (yet not noticeably so, as her innate poise rendered any inconvenience negligible) and a genteel smudge of dirt gracing her smooth and sculpted cheek, bone structure that made accomplished sculptors weep in amazement and vow to die trying to capture her beauty. (Phew!)  
  
"One kiss! That's all I could manage before he was whisked away! And he would have made such a handsome King of Gondor!"  
  
As if two discoveries weren't enough - her divine fate and Legolas' obvious preference for sweaty and unshowered Rangers - her attempted frolic with the babe-o-licious Legolas has revealed that her delicately pointed ears were nothing more than tips stuck onto her human ones! What gives? How come she'd never noticed this ploy by the elfs to make her think she was actually one of them? Oh well, such things were not important when she had a kingdom to conquer, a planet to dazzle, and men to happily die for her.  
  
She entered her chamber and signaled to her servants for a bath. Amongst the bubbles, she dreamily pondered her future, which was looking better and better. A Queen! Of Gondor! Of course they were backward yokels compared to the elfs -- not her relatives after all *sniff sniff* -- but if she had a crown and power, then Legolas would realize the error of his ways and decide that she was much better company than a stinky Ranger. A crown, a pretty wand thingy to wave around, and a rehabilitated Prince for her King!  
  
***  
  
"OK, I'm not mad at you for running off, Legolas. I think I can help you. In fact, I know I can. You're just confused. Even though you braid your hair, trust me - Strider doesn't notice. He already has Arwen. Don't you see? He's a good-for-nothing bounder!"  
  
"You are correct, as usual," Legolas sighed, inwardly vowing to dash off a Dear John letter that night. "Mergiliandowë, I believe myself lost when you are not around to advise me. I sometimes forget that you are the younger in years because your wisdom rivals that of the gods. You were merely trying to heal me under the cherry tree with the selfless love you have always possessed. I was just too self-absorbed to realize it. You have my eternal thanks for putting me on a straight path." He frowned and looked so distressed that Mergiliandowë knew he was being tortured with love for her. "It's impossible to explain, but I often feel like I don't even know who I am, my moods change so. Do you ever feel like that?"  
  
"Heavens, no!" Mergiliandowë burbled in giddy amusement, her captivating smile creating dimples that begged to be worshipped. [Did I overstep the line on that one?] "I always know what to do. I was born with everything a goddess should have."  
  
Legolas could only gaze in unabashed adoration. When she whipped out a map with the flourish of a conquering general, her confident poise chased all thoughts of everyone being even remotely equal to her from his mind. She was all the strengths of Middle Earth, none of the weaknesses.  
  
"Now, my plan is to ride from Mirkwood to Gondor with you and Strider. But if he starts anything funny, back he goes!"  
  
"I swear on everything that is pure, holy, and decent - namely your sweet self - that he will not corrupt me again."  
  
"Good! Now, once we get there, I'm going to knock on the gate, they'll let me in, and I'll win!" She clapped her hands. "Isn't it just too brilliant? Oh, I imagine there will be some resistance, but that's nothing my smile hasn't taken care of before."  
  
"Mendwë," he whispered. "I love you! I love you with my head, my heart, and my devastating British accent!"  
  
"Oh, Orlando!" Mergiliandowë cried, falling into his outstretched arms. Much slurping, smacking and rumpy-pumpy ensued. Starbursts and rainbows and fireworks ignited and teenage girls everywhere sighed in envy and cried at the beauty of it. And the map could now tell its friends what a butt feels like.  
  
***  
  
"Ho! Legolas!" came Strider's voice from outside the door.  
  
Luckily Legolas and Mergiliandowë had managed to get dressed and thus set the plot back on its staggering course, so any embarrassment was avoided. Tempting as it was to rip Strider a new one for interrupting her, she was feeling very charitable today.  
  
"Enter!" she cried.  
  
Strider strode in, filthy and smelly as usual. Mergiliandowë's delicately- curved nostrils quivered in disgust. Had he *ever* taken a bath? It was nothing a bit of Sauron's Strawberry Bath Foam couldn't cure, but wrestling with a panicky dog over a washtub was not part of her divine mission.  
  
"I come from Rivindel," he said, talking directly to Legolas.  
  
"What news?" Legolas asked eagerly.  
  
"ExCUSE me?" Mergiliandowë snapped. "HelLO?"  
  
"The Ringbearer is recovering from a wound by a Morgûl blade, although for some time we feared for his life," Strider continued. "Gandalf is there as well, having escaped from the tricks of Saruman. Elrond is calling a council to decide the course we must take to save Middle Earth from destruction and bring peace to these lands forever more. Our path will not be an easy one, I fear."  
  
"Let me get my horse and pack," Legolas said, heading towards the door, Strider behind him.  
  
"A-HEM!"  
  
The men turned around to see a slim figure brimming over with fires of spit. "Just what is this 'council'?" If it is supposed to save Middle Earth, I have that sewn up."  
  
"Somehow I doubt that," Strider smirked. "Sauron the Deceiver is a foe which no one can destroy, save the one thing that makes him powerful. The ring is the key."  
  
Mergiliandowë huffed in a way that was supposed to make her pride infuriating yet somehow devastatingly attractive to males of all species. However, Strider seemed unmoved. Unmoved!  
  
"Well," she began, tossing her locks around but avoiding whiplash, "if there *is* a Ring which will bring peace to Middle Earth if it's destroyed, then the logical conclusion is that *I* should handle it instead of this Ringbearer, as you so quaintly call him!"  
  
She stamped her foot and that, as they say, was that!  
  
Coming up next: The Ride to Rivendell and Random Acts of Randiness 


	4. Strider Comes Around

A/N: Aw, heck! I know I'm not consiztant with my mizpellings in this ficcy but everytime I mizpell, I fell like Im slappin my teecher right in the face!  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkien's. Not mine. How it hurts to say that! But if they WERE mine, Boromir wouldn't have freakin' DIED! This morning I had a dream that I was dreaming of Sean Bean doing . . . trés bizarre. I gotta lay off the A/B slash. . .  
  
Some plot bunnies came out of hiding and attacked my ankles so I'm diving back into this. You lucky people, you! Princess Fiona was my inspiration for the orc scene. BTW, it's amazing how many different ways Rivendell has been spelled on ff.net alone. Faith 'n' begorrah!  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
  
And so the three travelers made there way to Rivindel!  
  
Strider's order to Legolas to bring enough stuff for a lengthy journey was overheard by Mergiliandowë -- no one had to prompt her to pack all her stuff!  
  
"Two of these pack animals must go," Strider said flatly, eyeing the baggage train. "We perhaps have a long journey ahead of us after the council at Rivindel is concluded, but you will not be along for it."  
  
Mergiliandowë felt sparks coming on in her eyes and threw him a defiant glare. Narrowing them into fearsome slits, she screwed her face up into a classic 'Don't-mess-with-me" look reminiscent of a -- Could it be? Yes, most definitely! -- constipated goblin.  
  
"I'M GOING WITH LEGOLAS TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH, SO SHUT UP!!!!!!!"  
  
"Aragorn, she must come along," Legolas said, coming to the pretty damsel's rescue. "We may need her counsel later on."  
  
"Legolas, we're going to see the wisest counselor in all the land. What do we possibly need with her?"  
  
"I have knowledge that you could not possibly comprehend!" Mergiliandowë cried indignantly, balling her fists and planting them on her hips, legs apart, chin tilted, sun advantageously positioned so that her good angles were emphasized, lessee what else? Oh, and radiating a fragile innocence combined with steely resolve. "Now, let me go with you ALL the way to the end of your journeys or suffer my wrath when I gain my power and can order you killed!"  
  
You would think that would be the end of it, but try stopping one of her type once she's on a roll.  
  
"I've never trusted you, MISTER Ranger, or Strider, or Aragorn, or whatever else you may call yourself. A man who prefers to walk around smelling like a stable or some moldy forest floor and has an aversion to soap just cannot be trusted, in my mind. I honestly don't know what Arwen sees in you! Or do you stoop to washing when you're with her? I'd have banished you from Rivindel long ago!"  
  
Strider waited patiently until she had finished and then turned. "Mount up then, *princess*, and you shall get what you so richly deserve."  
  
Mergiliandowë nodded in satisfaction and hopped onto her pure white steed, gathering the reins in her gloved hands and nudging the beast's sides. As she passed Strider, she stuck out her pert, pointed and rosy tongue (built for Elvish ear-swirling) and started down the road to Rivindell.  
  
***  
  
The birds were singing in the forest and Mergiliandowë couldn't resist the temptation to join them. Several even flew to her outstretched hands and she trilled like an etherial mistress of the moonlight. When one reached up and kissed her cheek with its beak, the laugh from her throat was like the pealing of silver bells.  
  
"Stop that racket!" Strider growled irritably. "If you posses such wisdom, you will know that a forest provides the enemy with many advantages. But if you want them to come, by all means keep singing."  
  
"That I will!" Mergiliandowë snapped. Strider had made a good point, but she would never back down in front of him. Never! For the hope of Middle Earth to give in to a smelly Ranger with no future? Ridiculous! While he skinned squirrels for the rest of his life, she'd be sitting on a throne and enjoying the worship of a kingdom. No, a world!  
  
Strider cursed when there was a bone-chilling wail from the underbrush and several orcs burst forth. His horse reeled in surprise and he jumped off, sword already drawn. Legolas was also on his feet, bow at the ready. Unfortunately his arrow flew wide and instead impaled a tree. He did not have time to notch another arrow before one attacker, wielding a lumpy club, smashed the blond warrior on the side of the head. He crumpled in a helpless heap, the orc standing over him with fangs dripping in battle rage.  
  
"Hiiiiiiiiii-yah!"  
  
While Strider fended off three orcs with the remaining shreds of his strength, Mergiliandowë effortlessly launched herself at the orc ready to end the life of Legolas. Her foot slammed into the creature's chest and propelled it backwards into the same tree where Legolas' arrow still quivered. It ran through the orc's body, black blood spraying from the hole in its chest.  
  
She twirled and twisted away from the foul-smelling shower and flew to Strider whose sword was screeching and wailing as it scraped against the combined strength of three orc blades. Grasping his shoulders, she ran up his back and launched herself from him directly onto the startled orcs. Once upon them, her fists flew with such fury they became a ribbon through the air. Orc heads knocked together, teeth sprayed out of gaping mouths and curses in the dark tongue of Mordor carried through the wilderness.  
  
Within seconds, the menace was defeated and Mergiliandowë brushed off the unsightly smudge of dirt on her hem. "You dolts!" she cried at the prone orcs as she inspected the material. "You pulled out a thread!" She kicked the nearest orc in the side and felt a bit of satisfaction when it groaned. So for good measure she kicked again. "Don't do it again!" Kick. "I mean it!" A couple kicks. "And tell your friends, too!"  
  
Strider was pulling himself up off the ground and grabbed his sword from where it lay. "Princess, I'm sorry for my heartless, unfeeling words earlier. I see that your singing did serve a good purpose. You were able to prove your worth and I am no longer blind to it. We certainly would benefit if you were in our company, wherever our quest may lead us."  
  
Ha! she thought. She wanted to gloat, but it wouldn't be queenly, would it? "You are quite welcome, Strider, and I hope that you will be my right arm, so to speak, on my own quest. I'm sure there will other enemies lesser than orcs that you'll be able to handle."  
  
Legolas groaned and Mergiliandowë gave a cry of alarm and ran over to him. "Leggy precious! Speak to me!"  
  
"Oof!"  
  
She knelt beside him, not caring if her dress got dirty. Legolas needed to be kissed and made better and darned if she was going to let any dirt stop her!  
  
Cradling his head in her lap, she covered his face in kisses and let her hands run all over him in an effort to ease the pain in his head. It seemed to work because he stirred, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and his pained expression melted under her healing.  
  
"Strider, would you go off and get some firewood now?" she asked sweetly.  
  
Tune in later for the next chapter! Our heroine is in for a bunch of surprises in Rivendell. Ri-ven-dell. RIVENDELL. (Man, I can't emphasize that enough!) 


	5. Today's Special: Rivendell Surprise!

Disclaimer: Proportionately, more of this chapter is MINE than JRR's, so I'm gonna have to go with a "Hands off, Tolkien" approach. Like he'd wanna touch it!  
  
A/N: Some other (i.e., SERIOUS) plot bunnies attacked my rear (yeeee- OWWWWCH!) so I'm going to wind this up in this chapter. I'm beginning to hate Mergiliandowë with a passion reserved only for the worst Sue authors and she needs a comeuppance. Psycho Goddess: Rifendelle???? Sounds pretty German. Elrond lives in the Schwarzwald? Erm, I think I may have to change my vacation plans. . . ;-) I'll crash the Council! I'll be the dreaded "No. 10"!!!!!! Spelling errors galore here. . . I'm highly caffeinated right now and my fingers have a will of there own. (See????)  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
  
After a suitable length of time in front of her mirror where she noticed with satisfaction that elfin shags were doing wonders for her complexion, Mergiliandowë reapplied her pearly lip gloss made from stardust the wood fairys has given her on her birthday and announced that it was time to be moving on.  
  
"Your not upset are you Strider?" she trilled her commas and grammar dropping out of sight as was the plot. "After gathering all that wood?"  
  
"Nay, not upset at all," he said, sinscere. "It's just like you to always be thinking of my health. The exercise did me good."  
  
"Don't mention it," she chirped.  
  
Legolas had mounted his horse and was wandering down the path in a daze. Mergiliandowë called out, "Don't get lost, my sweeting! I might not be able to save you next time!"  
  
[Who is SHE kidding?]  
  
* * *  
  
When they reached Rivendell, Mergiliandowë squealed in delight when Arwen rushed down the front steps and over to her horse. "Mergiliandowë, I'm so glad you're here! We need some cheer in this dull place. Daddy is all gloom and doom and I can't get a single smile out of him." She pouted and looked over at Strider. "Oh, hello. Wanna neck later when Daddy's asleep?" Flashing him a smile, she took Mergiliandowë by the arm and headed towards the main palace, an elaborate building carved with great skill, and disappeared through the doors with a giggle.  
  
"What's going on here?" Mergiliandowë asked, her expression puzzled and innocent, her finely arched brows raised ever so slightly to denote interest of the aloof, royal sort.  
  
"Like I said, Daddy's on some kick right now about a Ring that has the power to destroy us all or something. I think his crowns a little too tight."  
  
The silver bells rang again from inside Mergiliandowë's silken throat. "This Ring, is it really so important?"  
  
"Daddy says so. One of thos little hobbits has it."  
  
"Does he now?" Mergiliandowë mused. "He won't have it for long. Where is he?"  
  
"Asleep. Some wandering elf princess came across him and his companions in the woods where he was dying from a poisonous wound. She risked her life bringing him here. Chased by a swarm of bad guys and single-handedly healing him while on horseback at breakneck speeds and bringing a river down on her pursuers. She is fascinating to talk to!"  
  
"Really?" Mergiliandowë asked.  
  
"Oh yes! Her parents are long-lost kin of Daddy's and they were captured by orcs. She came here to get Daddy's help to rescue them. Because Mommy suffered the same once, he naturally has a connection with her and has vowed to do all he can. The odd thing is that her name is the same as my mother's. Arignoramusien." Arwen's eyes continued to glow in excitement. "Oh, and we have another visitor! The hobbits were met here by a lovely creature of their own kind, Vapidia Willowtit, who has within her lost memory some information she says will help Frodo, the one with the Ring, on his quest. She knows she has it, but she doesn't know what it is. She says holding hands with Frodo in the garden will help her remember. It seems to be working so far."  
  
"Anyone else?" Mergiliandowë sniffed.  
  
"yes! Its funny, isn't it? Its like this council of Daddy's has come irresistible attraction! Everyone wants to be there!" She took a deep breath. "There's a girl, Ima Soue, who arrived yesterday in strange clothes and speaking some foreign language but she seemed to be so honest and nice we opened our arms to her and she is now one of the jewels of the court, her beauty and peerless singing voice overcoming the language barrier. She looks divine in my clothes. I've given her a dozen of my robes already because I never made them look good. But she does! My brothers have noticed, too, and they are now in a contest to see who will win her. They are acting silly indeed, but everyone is having great fun watching her dangle each on a string. Ooooh, and she is such a good mimic and we have read in her gestures that she can see the future. Daddy is using her advice all the time now."  
  
"Is that so?" Mergiliandowë asked, getting testy.  
  
[If I were smart, I'd stop here. But let me wring one more gasp out of this running gag, por favor!]  
  
"And this warrior maiden from the South!" Arwen went on. "Morgiana Hacknslash! She is magnificent! She has been a skilled mercenary since the age of 2 and there is no man alive who can defeat her in battle! She has such tales to tell! Killing orcs by the dozen before breakfast, but so in tune with animals that you wouldn't believe it unless you saw it. They just gather around her feet. The man she traveled her with is the song of the ruler of Gondor and he is so in love with her. He says she has saved his life countless times already. She says she is descended from the Dark Lord Sauron and she wants revenge on him for killing her mother. Her knowledge of Morodor will be so important. . ."  
  
[*snort* OK, I'm done now.]  
  
"Oh yeah?" Mergiliandowë snapped. "When's that council happening because *I* have news for everyone!"  
  
* * *  
  
"Listen up, because I'm only gonna say it once: TO HELL WITH ALL OF YOU!"  
  
The wizard, the elf-king, five hobbits, that Ranger (clean for once!), that elf-princess (standing unnaturally close to Legolas!), the strange visitor flanked by the twin elfs, a bunch of dwarves and men, and the Amazon beside her Gondor warrior all watched her silently. So she went on.  
  
"First of all, you!" she said, pointing to the warrior. "You may be the ruler's son, but you'll never rule. That's *my* inheritance." She did a dramatic 360, her glittering violet eyes piercing everyone's soul. "As for the rest of you, if anyone is thinking about keeping the throne from me, hear this: Don't piss off a Chosen One."  
  
That brought forth a torrent of loud arguing among all the female visitors.  
  
"*I'm* the Chosen One!" the elf princess screamed.  
  
"You're a fake!" the foreign girl said, even if no one else understood.  
  
"Want a taste of my steel?" snarled the Boudicca-wannabe.  
  
"Frodo needs to go on this quest. And so do I!" wailed Willowtitty.  
  
Mergiliandowë stamped her feet. "No no no! I don't want to hear it! If this council is about saving Middle Earth, no one needs to do a THING!" She ran over to the stone table and grabbed the gold ring. "I'll take care of it! If this needs to be thrown in a volcano, FINE. I'LL do it." She turned and ran out the door, leaving chaos in her wake.  
  
* * *  
  
So what happened to our heroine?  
  
Does anyone care?  
  
Well, I'll tell you anyhows. She was never seen again. No one south of Rivendell recalled seeing her when inquirers were made but many theories exist and a booming speculation industry began almost immediately after her disappearance. Everyone had their own ideas about what happened to the fair and fiery maiden of Mirkwood. Likewise legends were woven into the Mergiliandowë story.  
  
Legolas tended a shrine to his love until his broken heart gave out and he died to the strains of poignant Celtic pipes at the foot of a statue of her he carved out of the oldest and richest tree in Mirkwood that he'd cut down with a herring. It became the ruler by which Middle Earth measured true love forevermore.  
  
But the stories didn't end there. . .  
  
Some believe she was killed accidentally or had an accident and the ring went into another period of hiding. Whether she drowned or died on land, there are whispers that an Anduin Walking Catfish of Fate or a Dunland Groundhog of Doom will resurrect the menace.  
  
Other believe she was captured by the evil Sauron and they use as evidence that not long after her disappearance Sauron immediately renounced his evil ways, sought therapy, and became the most famous motivational speaker in Middle Earth. However she has never been seen since, leading others to say it's just a coincidence.  
  
Yet another school holds that the highest levels of government in Gondor, fearful of this beloved figure, removed her from the scene by foul means. Today, Gondor's rulers, King Aragorn and his high councilors Boromir and Denethor, are viewed with suspicion by a populace who wonder if murder was not above them. The whisperings grow louder each year. Lately it has been put forth that a complex gay Hobbit conspiracy was in collusion with Gondor to terminate the maiden, their communal way of life raising eyebrows and raising doubt among the god-fearing folk of Middle Earth.  
  
A mystery indeed. But honestly, isn't it better to keep some unsolved? Why delve into the past and stir up painful memories?  
  
RIP Mergiliandowë. . . and may your composted matter make the land bountiful.  
  
Hey, just what *was* in that dirt Galadriel gave Sam? Never trust an elf, indeed!  
  
END!!!!!  
  
A/N: I hope you liked reading it. I enjoyed writing it. Although I felt Mergiliandowë had to come to a sticky end quickly. When you want to b*tch- slap someone, it's best to walk away. Or kill 'em. ;-) Let your friends know about this story and if you want to link to it or archive it somewhere, go ahead on. Just let me know you have so I can say to myself, "Go me!" 


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